aid he'd do the
same. We both believe Jimmie is innocent, and we want to prove it to
everybody as soon as we can. That's why I came right on to see you. I
couldn't wait! Oh, perhaps I did wrong, coming this way--I'm sorry if
I've spoiled your fishing. But this is such--such a _big_ thing--it
means so much to him--to me! I--I--"

She faltered, looking from Shag to the colonel and then to the
sympathetic colored man again, for on his face was a look of pity.

"How did you know I was here?" asked Colonel Ashley.

"I went to your hotel. The clerk told me you had come to this stream.
It's the only good one for trout around here besides the one on my
father's farm."

"Has your father a trout stream?" and the eyes of the colonel took on a
kindly gleam.

"He has, and it's well stocked. But please, won't you help me? You
are the only one who can!"

"I'm not sure of that, my dear young lady. And, really, I hardly
understand what it's all about. You say the hotel clerk told you I was
here. I can understand that, for I asked him the best way to reach
this place. But how did you know I was a detective and stopping at the
Adams House?"

"He told me!" She pointed to the lanky youth.

The colonel and Shag turned their eyes on him. Shag gave a start of
surprise. The colonel began to leaf over the brain tablets of his
memory system. He was beginning to place the lad.

"Mah good land of massy!" ejaculated the negro. "It's de train newsboy
whut yo' give a dollar to las' night, Colonel!"

"The one who wanted to sell me a detective story?"

"I'm him, Colonel Brentnall," answered the lad, a smile of triumph
lighting up his face. "Your man told me who you was, and I heard you
tell the taxi man where to drive you. I didn't think anything more
about it until I read about the murder."

"The murder!" exclaimed the colonel. Somehow that seemed to follow him
as a Nemesis.

"Yes--old Mrs. Darcy--the jewelry store lady," went on the boy. "This
young lady," and he nodded toward his companion, "when I told her--"

"Perhaps you had better let me explain, Tom," broke in the girl. "You
see it's this way," she went on, addressing the colonel. "This boy is
Tom Tracy. He sells papers on the express. He was once a jockey for
my father, but he got hurt--stiff arm--and we had to get him something
else to do. Dad always looks out for his boys, and so Tom went on the
road."

"I had to do _something_ that had motion in